


Over and Over Again

by tookumade



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29392599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tookumade/pseuds/tookumade
Summary: “What do you think?” Suna asks restlessly as he continues towelling his hair. His voice is less casual than he’d like—there’s a slight waver in it that makes Osamu turn to look at him.“About?” Osamu asks.“About the… the transfer.”Thetransfer. Notmytransfer. Notwhat do you think about me leaving. Notwhat do you think about me moving to a prefecture that’s more than four hours drive away on a good day, or two and a half hours by the bullet train that I can’t afford on a regular basis.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 13
Kudos: 132
Collections: SunaOsa Valentine's Exchange





	Over and Over Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stringendos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stringendos/gifts).



> Happy Valentine's, Giftee!! This ran away from me a bit - sorry 🙏🏼 I hope you'll still be able to enjoy it!

_**MAY** _

  
_TRANSFER NEWS:_  
_SUNA RINTAROU DEPARTS TACHIBANA RED FALCONS FOR EJP RAIJINS_

  
“My parents complained,” says Suna dryly. He is tucked up comfortably on one side of Osamu’s couch as he scrolls through his phone for the day’s social media. “They wanted to know why I couldn’t transfer to a team that’s actually in Aichi Prefecture, instead of Shizuoka next door. I had to explain to them that transfers don’t always work like that.”

Strolling into his living room with a small towel around his shoulders after having finished a hot shower, Osamu gives a soft laugh and says, “At least it’ll be easier to visit. EJP Raijins’ stadium is… uh, how far from your parents’ place by bullet train?”

“About an hour or so.”

Osamu sits down on the floor in front of Suna with his back to him, and Suna uncurls his legs so they bracket him on each side. He sets his phone down, pulls the towel from Osamu’s shoulders, and begins towelling his hair dry. There’s a baseball game playing on the TV, but he’s not really paying attention. The quiet company would be comfortable, as it usually is, but today, it gnaws at Suna’s stomach like a persistent bug. Osamu gives a little yawn and props his elbows up on Suna’s knees as he watches the teams switch sides on the pitch.

“What do you think?” Suna asks restlessly as he continues towelling his hair. His voice is less casual than he’d like—there’s a slight waver in it that makes Osamu turn to look at him. 

“About?” Osamu asks.

“About the… the transfer.”

 _The_ transfer. Not _my_ transfer. Not _what do you think about me leaving_. Not _what do you think about me moving to a prefecture that’s more than four hours drive away on a good day, or two and a half hours by the bullet train that I can’t afford on a regular basis_.

“I think it’s a good move,” says Osamu slowly. “You’ve been with the Red Falcons for two seasons already, but you weren’t getting as much playing time as you should’ve been. You didn’t _start_ half the time—what the hell! You’re too good to be stuck in the warm-up zone. Your coach was always pushing for more attack power, right? That’s why he signed Aran-kun for the next season, and…”

He talks a little more: about EJP Raijins being able to boost both their defence and attack with Suna joining the team, how he might work with Washio as a middle blocker and Komori as one of the team’s liberos who had joined last season, how EJP Raijins’ coach had been making headlines in the past season with his solid tactics and strategies…

Suna is only half-listening. He knows all this—his lack of game time with the Red Falcons and the game play side of the Raijins were most of the reasons he’d signed with them, after all.

But…

“… and Washio-san’s always been a reliable blocker. A little annoyingly so, actually—”

“Mm,” hums Suna absently.

“—and I’ve been thinking about moving to Italy to start learning to make pizza, instead of onigiri.”

“Yeah…” says Suna.

There’s a pause, and then Osamu reaches back and gently swats at Suna’s head, making him jump.

“ _What was that for?_ ” Suna splutters.

“I said I’m moving to Italy to learn to make pizza,” says Osamu.

Suna stops his towelling. “ _What?_ ”

“Ahh, you really weren’t listening!” Osamu turns and climbs onto the couch, but he doesn’t look annoyed. He’s smiling at Suna with that familiar little knowing grin, _smug_ , like he can read Suna like an open book. Suna rolls his eyes and looks away. “How about it, Rin? Ask me what you really want to ask.”

( _Shizuoka is so far from Amagasaki, doesn’t that bother you, I don’t know how often I can see you like this—_ )

“I don’t have anything to ask,” Suna lies.

( _Are you going to miss me?_ )

Osamu snorts. “Maybe I really will move to Italy.”

Suna groans. “What are you even _talking_ about?”

“You’ve been zoning out on me all day, Rin,” says Osamu impatiently. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’m _fine_ , I’ve got—”

“—nothing to talk about. Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard _that_ before.” Osamu half-heartedly moves his hand to flick at his forehead, and Suna swats him away again. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Even if you don’t want to, you should talk to _someone_ , if something’s bothering you.”

Suna has never been good at lying to Osamu or keeping secrets from him. No amount of waving it off would ever work—Osamu was simply too good at reading him. Over the years, it’s kept an honesty in their relationship that Suna finds he has learnt a lot from, grown from, and cherished.

But, over the years, he’s never had to move so far away from him before.

“I’m fine,” Suna says firmly. He drops the towel on the coffee table in front of them, lies down, and curls up on the couch with his head on Osamu’s lap. Somewhat automatically, Osamu combs his fingers through his hair and Suna closes his eyes with a comfortably lazy sigh—a well-practised routine. “So, which part of Italy are you moving to?”

“Mm… somewhere near the coast,” says Osamu. “I know next to nothing about Italy, though. I think most of it is coast? Hey, look up Italy for me.”

“Later,” Suna mumbles.

“How am I supposed to start my soul-searching pizza-making adventure like this?”

“Part of the adventure is getting lost. The rest is pizza.”

“The rest is pizza,” Osamu echoes, dissolving into laughter. Suna can’t help but smile. “You can think you’re cool as much as you want, but the truth is that you are ridiculous and I love you. Hey, feel like pizza for dinner?”

Suna opens his eyes. Osamu is smiling down at him so fondly, Suna’s heartbeat speeds up and there’s a burst of warmth in his chest, and for a moment, for a second, maybe a minute, maybe much longer, he thinks about backing out of his newly-signed contract with EJP Raijins and staying here, instead.

“Rin?” says Osamu, his smile faltering slightly when Suna doesn’t answer.

He could. He could stay here.

He could stay.

He reaches up and flicks Osamu square on the forehead to a yelp of surprise.

“Rice pizza,” says Suna. “Let’s make rice pizza.”

“ _Wow_ , that’s a hell of a way to ask!” says Osamu, rubbing his brow and trying to look angry. But, when Suna grins at him, Osamu can’t help but grin back. He drums one-handed at Suna’s belly playfully. “Get off me, jackass. I need to check if I have cheese in the fridge.”

“Later,” says Suna. He closes his eyes again. “Five more minutes.”

“Five more minutes,” Osamu agrees, running his fingers through Suna’s hair again.

* * *

* * *

_**JUNE** _

  
Suna moves in with Osamu for the rest of the off-season.

It had been quite abrupt. Suna had called him up and said, “Hey, I’m moving in with you next week, so get ready,” and then hung up. And then ignored Osamu’s next two phone calls, just because he could. And then answered the third phone call, because that was the polite thing to do.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“ _Don’t you ‘hey, what’s up’ me!_ ” Osamu exclaims. “What the hell, Rin?”

Suna sets his phone to loudspeaker and places it on his bed as he sorts through the shelf in his room, separating items into a Keep pile and a Discard pile. “Does this mean I can’t crash?”

“No—Yes—I’m— _yes_ , you can crash, but _why?_ ”

“My lease ends next month, and then I’ll be moving to Shizuoka in September so I can be ready to play when the V.League season starts in October, so there’s no point in me looking for a place to rent for two months. You’ve got some room, right?”

“I… do. Do you still have your futon?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be getting rid of it soon, so I’ll use yours.”

“Huh?”

“We have shared beds before. Don’t make this weird.”

“Ohh, _that’s_ what you mean. I thought you were kicking me out of my own bed. Speaking of—what’ll happen to your furniture?”

“I’ll be selling things off. I can use my current place for storage.”

“Okay, that works for me. I’m going to be busy, though; the Kifune Shrine summer festival is next month.”

Onigiri Miya would be making its debut with a booth at the shrine’s summer festival at the end of July and the start of August. Osamu had been half-ecstatic and half-terrified upon confirming participation, sending Suna an avalanche of LINE messages, mostly consisting of several repeated hiragana and katakana characters and almost as many exclamation marks and stickers.

“I already said I’d help out,” says Suna. He pushes his Keep pile away a little to make more room.

“Are you _sure?_ ”

“We’ve been through this. Once you start being more financially secure, you’ll be able to hire staff, but for now, you gotta start small and close. Just let me know how I can help.”

“Don’t you need to be preparing for the V.League season?”

Three months. He has three more months.

“It’s just keeping my fitness up and making the occasional trip to Shizuoka. I have time to help out. Just don’t make me do any heavy lifting; my hands are the money-makers, and they’re delicate, you know.”

“Hey, my hands are also delicate money-makers.”

“Oh, _darling_ , your hands are _so much more_ than th—”

Osamu bursts into laughter. “ _Rin!_ ” 

Grinning, though Osamu can’t see it, Suna turns so he can lean against his shelf instead, stretching his long legs out. It’s stiflingly hot today, and this is boring work. Osamu’s laughter is clear over his phone’s loudspeaker, and Suna lets it wash over him—holds onto it, onto every second, every tone, every breath. His eyes trail the boxes and bags of items he’d packed to be kept, donated, or thrown away. Evidently, he had hoped too high that his time with the Red Falcons would amount to something more, something better.

“You know,” says Osamu after he has calmed down, “you can move in whenever you want. You don’t have to wait another week. You spend half your time over at mine, anyway.”

“Maybe I’ll move in in three days, instead.”

“You could.”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Something twists a little in the pit of Suna’s stomach, and his voice is quieter than he’d like it to be when he says, “Maybe today. This evening. Maybe right now.”

And he can hear the smile in Osamu’s voice when he says, “I’ll always be here.”

Ah… How unfair. How cruel and wonderful in equal amounts. How Suna would stay in a heartbeat if Osamu ever asked him to, but he would never ask—because they both knew that Suna belonged on the court, by the volleyball nets, wreaking havoc against his opponents, and making sure fans of volleyball knows his name. He belonged with a team that wouldn’t constantly sideline him.

Even if that meant taking him away from a place he had hoped he could call home.

“Next week,” he says. “I’ll move in next week.”

And Osamu repeats: “I’ll always be here.”

* * *

* * *

_**JULY** _

  
The brutal summer humidity _really_ does not help how busy both Osamu and Suna are. Between all of Osamu’s preparations for Onigiri Miya’s debut at the Kifune Shrine summer festival, Suna slowly selling his furniture and sometimes dragging Osamu to help him deliver them, continuing his light workouts to maintain his fitness, occasionally training with local volleyball teams at their sporting arenas, and then the typical daily and weekly duties of cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping, neither have many quiet days. 

Osamu is thriving, though. Preparing for the festival has lit a fire in him that no summer could ever compare to, and there’s a spring in his step that Suna notices. Being busy suits him, and he is energetic, despite the heat. In the early mornings, Osamu insists on accompanying Suna on his daily jogs, even— _especially_ —on the days when the humidity has sunk its claws in early and Suna has a hard time dragging himself out of the apartment. Suna wishes he could bottle Osamu’s energy, somehow—as a motivator when he’s feeling a little lazy, or even just as a reminder that it’s nice seeing Osamu like this. When Osamu jogs, he sometimes pulls ahead and throws a grin over his shoulder at Suna, as if to make sure he’s still keeping up. Suna always keeps up. He may not be as competitive as Atsumu could be, but Suna always keeps up.

(Once or twice (or three times, or many times more), he is reminded of their high school days and the combined hours and hours of jogging together, and he uselessly wonders: if he had the chance, would he ever choose to go back in time and tell his younger self to hold onto Osamu much more closely?) 

Half-way through July on a Saturday evening, they finally have some quiet hours together. 

Through the clear door of Osamu’s living room that leads out to the balcony, they can see the setting sun has painted the sky a brilliant mural of yellows and oranges and pinks and purples. Suna snaps a photo for his twitter account. They have a pedestal fan running, and it’s blowing into Suna’s face. He is eating a cola flavoured Gari Gari Kun popsicle. Osamu has already finished his Gari Gari Kun, and for whatever reason is lying on the floor with his head on Suna’s lap as he scrolls through his phone, as if they didn’t both already feel disgusting and sticky in the persistent heat.

“Did EJP Raijins get back to you about where you’re staying in Shizuoka?” Osamu asks suddenly, putting his phone down.

Suna takes another bite of his Gari Gari Kun, wincing at the sudden brain freeze. “Yeah, they confirmed that one of their players will be moving out into his own apartment at the start of the season, so I can move into the team dormitories. I got in touch with Komori, and he offered his place to stay until we’ve got everything sorted.”

“Good guy, Komori,” says Osamu fondly. “Sometimes, I really do wonder how he’s related to Sakusa.”

“I mean… you’re related to Atsumu.”

“A fact that I lament in every waking hour. But, good point.”

Suna snickers and finishes the rest of his Gari Gari Kun. He tucks the stick back into the wrapper and sets it aside, and says, “When you have enough money to open a proper Onigiri Miya store, start by opening one in Shizuoka. I need a regular food haunt.”

Osamu grins. “Hell yeah. I plan on having a branch in every major city, someday. Onigiri Miya takeover.”

Suna rests his hand on Osamu’s chest and smiles back. “I’m looking forward to it.” 

In every city, in every lifetime, Suna wanted to be wherever Osamu was. 

He knows this so deeply that it feels like an ache, and still, he knows just as well that Osamu would never ask Suna to stay—not after seeing Suna’s restlessness because he was once again not starting another Red Falcons match, and not after EJP Raijins knocked on his door and offered him so much promise.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet…

(In every city—)

No. Not tonight. Not right now.

“Hey, I’m getting hungry,” says Suna. “It’s too hot to cook. Let’s go out to eat.”

“Mm, sounds good,” says Osamu. “What do you think about Korean food? We can have some cold dishes.”

“That place near the station?”

“Yeah!”

“Sure, let’s go.”

(In every lifetime—)

* * *

July 31st arrives in what feels like the blink of an eye. In the days leading up, summer humidity be damned, Osamu had been running around like mad, organising last minute things with suppliers and festival organisers, reminding Atsumu and Ginjima to come help out on the second and last day as they’d promised, picking up and admiring his Onigiri Miya business cards he’d gotten printed up for the festival booth, and scribbling on pieces of paper as he changed his mind about his menu yet again before Suna plucked them from his hands and told him to stick with his original plan.

A few weeks ago, Osamu had contacted Kita to ask for a favour: to write ‘Onigiri Miya’ in calligraphic brush strokes, with a circle surrounding the single kanji for ‘Miya’. This would be the signage he would use for the booth, and Kita had agreed and delivered. Three days before the festival, he met them at the storage unit Osamu has been using for his equipment, carrying a large wooden sign: long and black with the characters painted on it in white.

It was perfect. Osamu had been rendered speechless until Suna elbowed him in the ribs, and then Osamu bowed low and thanked Kita profusely, looking increasingly teary-eyed. When he took the sign in his hands, he continued staring at it in silent reverence. Grinning, Suna walked Kita back to his pickup truck.

“Congratulations on your transfer to EJP Raijins,” Kita had said. “I think they’re a good fit for you.”

“Thank you,” said Suna. “I hope so.”

“Are you looking forward to it?”

Suna almost automatically replied with a ‘yes’, but he faltered. It didn’t feel right. ‘No’ didn’t feel right, either. Which one? Was he looking forward to the transfer? Was he looking forward to being able to play more often? Was he looking forward to moving to Shizuoka?

Perhaps he had fallen silent for a little too long, because Kita’s eyes—clever, always so clever—flickered back to the storage unit for a moment, and his face softened ever so slightly in something like knowing.

“You haven’t really talked to Osamu about it, have you?”

Suna flinched. Bullseye.

“I plan to,” he said, unconvincingly. “It’s just…”

What excuses did he have? How could he keep running away like this, when September was swooping towards them so quickly and the start of the V.League season was not far behind?

“Things will change, and there’s no helping that,” said Kita, “but it’s how you tackle that change that’s important. You know this, Suna.”

“Yes,” Suna mumbled.

“And… Osamu has been busy, but I highly doubt that you’re the only one who’s been thinking about it. You should hear what he has to say, too. You aren’t high school kids anymore—there is so much more that the two of you are capable of, now.”

For all the cold truth bombs Kita used to drop on them during their high school years, it could sometimes be easy to forget that his words could be kind and warm. Briefly, Suna thought back to Kita’s heavier truth bombs during their time in the volleyball club, and he smiled wryly.

“We really gave our seniors a hard time back in Inarizaki, didn’t we?” said Suna. Kita’s smile widened and he let out a little laugh.

“I’m glad you know, now,” he said, but his voice was fond.

* * *

Day one of the bustling Kifune Shrine summer festival goes reasonably well. 

During the first half, onigiri sales hadn’t been as high as they had hoped. They are flanked by two booths—one selling grilled skewers, and the other selling taiyaki—both lit up with lights and brighter signage, making them look and feel bigger, even though their booths are the same size as Onigiri Miya’s. Osamu looks slightly discouraged, but Suna knows him well enough to know that it’s not nearly enough to put him off trying again. He can already see the cogs turning in Osamu’s head. 

“Do you want to walk around the festival?” Osamu asks him. “I can probably handle things by myself for a little while.”

Suna adjusts his black cap. He and Osamu are wearing matching uniforms for the festival, consisting of a cap, a plain black shirt, and black pants, though Osamu also wears a brown apron, since he’s the one handling food. He fills out his black shirt _very_ nicely, so Suna is perfectly happy with this get-up, despite the heat.

“Maybe later, or tomorrow, when Atsumu and Gin come by,” says Suna. “We’re only half-way through the day; don’t throw me out, yet.”

“I’m not,” says Osamu with a dry smile. “It’s just not as busy as I’d hoped. I have some ideas to improve for next time, but for today, I think you can relax.”

“Mm… we’ll see. Let me try something. Keep this off, okay?” Suna plucks Osamu’s cap off his head and sets it aside. Osamu stares at him questioningly, but Suna just gives him a once-over and a satisfied little nod. He shuffles out of the booth and stands in front of it, takes a deep breath, and begins clapping his hands as loudly as he can.

“ _Welcome, welcome to Onigiri Miya!_ ” he shouts. He knows Osamu is gawking at him, baffled. “ _We have delicious onigiri in seven different flavours! Meet the cook—he’s Japan’s most handsome onigiri maker!_ ”

There’s a sharp bark of laughter that he knows is Osamu’s, and Suna grins. 

(In every city, in every lifetime, he would recognise that laugh in an instant.)

“ _Welcome, welcome! You’ll fall in love with his face, and also his onigiri!_ ”

He can hear laughter from the grilled skewers and taiyaki sides, too. Suna continues shouting and clapping. His palms are stinging, it’s sweltering hot and he’d love to grab a paper fan from the booth to cool himself off, but he doesn’t stop. More festival go-ers falter in their steps to stare over at him and the Onigiri Miya booth curiously.

“ _Every purchase of two onigiri gets you a selfie with the owner!_ ”

“ _RIN!_ ”

“ _Every four onigiri gets you an autograph!_ ”

“ _Get back in here!_ ”

“ _Welcome to Onigiri Miya!_ ”

“ _Welcome, welcome!_ ”

Throughout the course of the day, Suna steps out to the front of the booth to clap and shout some more times. They gain more attention and they sell more onigiri. Suna is banned from writing anything on their small chalkboard about taking selfies with Osamu. Any trace of discouragement has faded from his face as he happily makes more onigiri and Suna takes more sales. The two remaining festival days come and go in similar ways, only Atsumu is even louder and more attention-catching when it’s his turn to clap and shout. Most importantly, Osamu looks like he is having fun.

All in all, it’s a good debut.

* * *

* * *

_**AUGUST** _

  
“Onigirintarou.”

Suna looks at him and says, flatly, “What.”

“Komorigiri… Washionigiri…” Osamu taps his pen against the pocket-sized notepad in his hand thoughtfully. “Volleyball-themed onigiri… Oh! Onigiri that look like volleyballs! That’s so obvious!” He scribbles notes down.

It’s a lazy Sunday late morning and the sky is bucketing with summer rain. The humidity, which is already bad enough, is going to be horrendous later. Both of them are sitting stretched out on the floor, with Osamu once again lying with his head resting on Suna’s lap. Two empty bowls of ice cream sit not far from them. Suna wants to get up to make himself an iced green tea and to turn up the setting on the pedestal fan currently blowing, but he’ll let Osamu lie here for a little longer.

“I contacted some V.League clubs about selling onigiri at some of their home games,” says Osamu, “but it looks like I missed all the deadlines for this season. They all said they’ll contact me when applications open for the next season, though.”

“I imagine availability goes pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, especially since volleyball’s picked up in popularity in recent years. I’m not worried, though. I’ll get right onto applications as soon as I know.” Osamu looks up at Suna and half-heartedly flicks at his forehead; Suna swats him away just as half-heartedly. 

“Hurry up and open a store in Shizuoka,” he says. “Then, you have an excuse to visit me whenever you want.”

Osamu smiles. “I don’t need an excuse to visit you.”

“For that distance, you do.”

“Do I?” Osamu’s smile softens into something a little curious, a little knowing. 

(In every city, in every lifetime—)

Suna avoids looking at him. “I’ll be hours away. We can’t just visit each other whenever we want.”

“Oh? Careful, Rin; you sound like you’re going to miss me.”

(“ _You haven’t really talked to Osamu about it, have you?”_ )

There’s a slight clenching feeling in Suna’s chest.

(“ _Things will change, and there’s no helping that—_ ”)

“And if I am?” says Suna, quieter and less defiant than he would’ve liked.

“Rin?”

(“— _But it’s how you tackle that change that’s important._ ”)

“I’m going to miss you,” Suna confesses at long last, and suddenly, it’s so hard to look at Osamu. It’s so hard to push away that tightness in his chest, that sting, that ache, that growing temptation to cancel his contract with EJP Raijins and to stay, to stay here, to stay here with Osamu.

Osamu huffs a quiet laugh and says, “Why? Are you breaking up with me?”

“ _No_ ,” says Suna exasperatedly. “I mean—I definitely don’t want to.”

Pushing himself up into a sitting position and stretching comfortably, Osamu turns so he’s facing him and reaches for his right hand. He presses a kiss to Suna’s palm.

“Osamu—”

“What do you want to do, Rin?” Osamu asks. “What do you need? Right now, in a few months time, in a year—tell me everything. Okay?”

(“ _You haven’t really talked to Osamu about it—_ ”)

Suna’s fingers curl around Osamu’s, and he still doesn’t look at him when he takes a deep breath and finally says, “I want to stay here. With you. I want the contract with EJP Raijins. I want to keep playing volleyball. I want you to keep going with Onigiri Miya. I want to be able to magically teleport back here whenever I want. I wish Shizuoka wasn’t so far away. I wish things worked out with the Red Falcons. I want _everything_ and I just—I don’t want to break up with you.”

He hears Osamu exhale, and he meets his eyes. Osamu is smiling again, this time looking… relieved.

“I have to admit,” says Osamu, “there was a small part of me that was getting worried, but, now that you’ve said all that, I feel better about it.”

There’s a funny little jolt in Suna’s chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

Osamu’s smile widens a little when he counters with a, “Well, why didn’t you?”

Suna gives him a pained look, and Osamu laughs. “We both got busy,” says Suna. “You were focusing on the festival, and I didn’t want to throw you off. And I guess… there was a part of me that was scared you’d tell me that you thought things wouldn’t work out between us, after all. I didn’t want to hear it. There’s no universe where I’ll ever be ready to hear it.”

Still holding onto his hand, Osamu shuffles closer, and Suna folds his legs so that he’s sitting cross-legged. They both fit against each other comfortably. Osamu is so close, and Suna really wants to kiss him.

“I know what you mean,” says Osamu. “And, it’s true, I got caught up with the festival. I’m sorry. But I did think about how we could make it work—every day, in fact.”

“Yeah? How?”

Osamu runs his thumbs along the back of Suna’s hand, tracing his veins, gathering his thoughts. Osamu’s hands aren’t as rough as they used to be, Suna realises. He hadn’t really noticed until now. Going from countless hours of training and playing volleyball, to countless hours of pressing rice together and preparing toppings for delicious onigiri. His hands are both gentle and firm, and with them, Osamu chased dream after dream—he was always chasing dreams. 

(In every city, in every lifetime, Suna would recognise the feel of Osamu’s hands.)

“The V.League season only runs for about six months,” says Osamu. “This season goes until mid-March, right? So, that means we’ve got the rest of the year to hang out. If you want, you can come back and stay with me over the off-season. You said you were staying at the team’s dorms, so that makes it easier on your rent. And, since I’ll be applying to sell at some V.League games next season, like in Shizuoka for EJP Raijins’ home games, I can visit you while I’m there. Likewise, EJP Raijins will be facing off against the Red Falcons and the Black Jackals, _meaning_ you’ll be back in Osaka for those, so we can try to meet up. And, for now, I’m still slowly establishing myself and I don’t have a proper storefront yet, so I still have some time to make the trip out to see you occasionally. You can come to visit me when you have a day off, too. And, of course, we can message and call each other whenever we want.”

Osamu had thought about it. Every day. Suna feels a familiar warmth blossom in his chest, a tension ease from his shoulders, a fading ache, and suddenly, it’s so much easier to breathe.

And perhaps this shows on his face, because Osamu is smiling fondly at him again, and Suna’s heartbeat speeds up. For a moment, for a second, maybe a minute, maybe much longer—definitely much longer—he knows that they can make it work.

If Osamu still wants to be with him, that’s really all Suna needs.

“It’s going to suck, being so far away,” says Osamu, “but it’s not like we’re in different countries. It’s not that hard to see each other, if we really want to. Shizuoka is, what, two? Three hours away by bullet train?”

“Public transit is a bit over two hours by the fastest route,” says Suna, recalling his endless internet searches. “Four hours drive using the toll routes.”

“We can do two hours,” says Osamu, nodding. “Even three or four hours. Five? Six? A whole day? It’s easy. It’s just about putting in a bit of extra effort—and for me, you’re always, _always_ going to be worth that extra effort, Rin. That’s why I’m going to keep having faith in us. I’m going to keep believing in us. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll deal with it then. But, I’m not ready to give up on us before we’ve even had a shot at it.”

(“ _You aren’t high school kids anymore_ —”)

Suna finds he is smiling. “Since when have you been so reliable, Osamu?”

“Excuse you.” Osamu throws him a mock-offended look. “I’m always reliable.”

“Mm…”

“ _Always_. Ever since I was in the womb.”

“Hmm…”

“And if I’m going to expand my business, I’m going to be hiring people, so I need to be reliable if I’m gonna be a good boss.” 

(“— _there is so much more that the two of you are capable of, now._ ”)

Now, it’s Suna’s turn to lift Osamu’s hand and press a kiss to his palm. Hands that were gentle and firm and always chased dreams—always looked to the future.

This was Suna’s defeat, in a way. He still had so much more to learn, so much more growing up to do, so much more independence to gain. If Osamu could chase his dream whilst holding onto Suna and believing in what they had, then Suna could do the very same. Because Osamu was always, _always_ going to be worth that extra effort.

“You’re gonna be amazing,” Suna says quietly. “And I’m always gonna be cheering you on, no matter how far away I am.”

(In every city, in every lifetime—)

Osamu turns and moves to lie back down with his head resting on Suna’s lap. Suna combs his fingers through his hair. This is another well-practised routine. 

“I’m going to miss you,” says Osamu.

Suna’s smile widens. “Are you breaking up with me, Osamu?”

“No.” Grinning back at him, Osamu takes Suna’s other hand and presses a kiss to his fingers. “I definitely don’t want to.”

* * *

* * *

_**SEPTEMBER** _

  
“Call me when you get to your parents’ place,” Osamu says as he watches Suna zip up his backpack. “I don’t know if I trust your driving skills. Maybe I should have you on loudspeaker the entire time.”

“My driving skills are very good, I’ll have you know. In any case, it’s a rental car, and I can’t be bothered dealing with the paperwork if I crash it, so I’ll be extra careful.”

“Let me know if you need me to rescue you from your parents. Your mother sounded a bit too happy to see you—I don’t think she’s gonna let you continue on to Shizuoka.”

Suna grins wryly. “My little sister will be home. She can help me. But, I’ll have the whole weekend to plan an escape route, if I need to.”

“Call me when you get to Shizuoka, too. Komori’s picking you up from the car rental drop-off place, right?”

“Yeah, he said he’ll be there. We’re going straight to his place, and then I’ll meet up with the coaching staff the next day.”

“Okay. Do you have enough food for the trip to Aichi? Water?” 

“Darling, you gave me a dozen onigiri. That’s way too much, and anyway, I can just stop to buy something on the way.”

“The tuna mayo ones are for your sister. When you’ve finished them all, you’ll thank me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Suna stands and shoulders his bag, and leans in to press a kiss to Osamu’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Outside Osamu’s apartment block is the white Daihatsu that Suna has hired for the next few days. It’s already filled with some boxes and bags of Suna’s belongings he would be keeping. The rest had been donated or thrown away, and all his furniture had been sold. Suna dumps his backpack onto the passenger seat and turns around, but before he can say anything, Osamu steps close, cups Suna’s face in his hands, and kisses him. With a wild swooping sensation in his stomach that would probably never ease no matter how many times Osamu kissed him, Suna kisses him back, hands pressed to his own. Osamu feels and tastes and smells like home, and for a moment, for a second, for two seconds, but not a second longer, Suna thinks about staying here.

This is part of the adventure. (The rest is onigiri.)

Suna holds onto this feeling long after Osamu breaks their kiss, and he presses their foreheads together for a little while.

“Have a safe drive,” Osamu murmurs. “To Aichi, and to Shizuoka.”

“I’ll see you soon,” says Suna, smiling. 

The drive to Aichi takes well over three hours. The drive from there to Shizuoka takes another two hours.

It’s not so bad. It’s not far from Osamu at all.

* * *

* * *

_**MARCH** _

  
The end of March brings the start of the cherry blossom blooms, and it also brings the end of the V.League season and the beginning of the off-season. All the players have gone off to start their long holidays. Suna has already re-signed with EJP Raijins for another two seasons after he’d helped them place a close third in the finals. His, Komori’s, and Washio’s defensive skills had apparently been enough of a pain in the ass for their opponents to deal with that Atsumu saw fit to send Suna text messages consisting of several middle finger emojis. 

The end of March also brings him to the steps of a familiar apartment block in Amagasaki in the early afternoon with a large duffel bag beside him. It’s been two months since he was last here, having visited during a free weekend. Back then, it had been the middle of winter, air crisp and cold, and Suna had enjoyed being tucked up against Osamu at night as he fell asleep in his warmth. Today, the weather is warmer, but Suna will be doing the same. He is looking forward to it.

 _I’m out buying groceries and running an errand for my neighbour so if I’m not home by the time you get there, just wait a bit ok!_ had been the text Suna had received from Osamu on the train as it neared Amagasaki station, and so, he sits here and waits. 

He is hungry. He wonders if Osamu will be cooking something for lunch, or if they’ll go out for a meal, maybe eat at one of the restaurants they both really like but Suna hasn’t been to in a while, or maybe some new places have popped up since he was last here. Maybe, when it’s April, he’ll drag Osamu out to go see the cherry blossoms in full bloom. Maybe they can go on a short trip somewhere during the Golden Week holiday in May. Maybe, at the tail-end of July and the very start of August, Onigiri Miya will make an appearance at the Kifune Shrine summer festival again, and Suna will step out to the front of the booth and clap and shout about how delicious their onigiri are and how handsome the cook is. Maybe it’ll make Osamu laugh, again.

He is looking forward to the summer.

There’s the sound of brisk footsteps and the rustling of plastic bags, and then—

Suna’s face eases into a smile when his gaze falls onto Osamu, coming into view. Osamu looks up and sees him, and his own smile lights up his face. Suna’s heartbeat speeds up and there’s a burst of warmth in his chest, and for a moment, for a second, for a minute, for so much longer, he feels like he has come home.

“Hey,” Suna says. 

Osamu climbs the steps and bends down to press a kiss to his temple before saying, softly, “Welcome home.”

Throughout the off-season, Suna will make the occasional trip back to Shizuoka for team-related business. He’ll have practise matches to play in, and spikes to block and blocks to spike past. He’ll occasionally take a trip to Aichi to visit his family. Come October, he will be back in Shizuoka for yet another V.League season.

But no matter how far away he was, in every city and in every lifetime, if Suna could come home to this, he would be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/naffnuffnice/)
> 
> I could've sworn during my research that the Kifune Shrine summer festival was meant to run from July 31st to August 2nd, but I have since completely lost where I saw the July 31st bit, and it seems like it's just an August festival..... my bad! 🙏


End file.
